Consequences Great
by Java Voice
Summary: Some things are easy, other's aren't, and it's living with them that can kill you.


"Dinner, tomorrow, seven o'clock, I'm cooking," Gage stated, looking up from his stack of police   
statements.  
  
"What?" Sydney replied, too caught up in her own pile of reports to catch it the first time.  
  
"I'm cooking you dinner tomorrow at seven."  
  
"Oh you are, are you?" she playfully laughed at his very matter-of-fact tone. "What if I say no?   
Or what if I've already made other plans?"  
  
"Cancel them," he stated evenly, never missing a beat. "You have no choice about this one   
Sydney."  
  
"All right, I'll be there," she conceded. It would be nice to have dinner with him; they usually ate   
together every Wednesday night, but lately they'd been too busy, and she missed it terribly, it had always   
been the perfect friendly escape from the chaos of police work. "Now get back to those statements or I   
may have to cancel on you on the grounds that we don't have time; Walker wants us to have compiled a list   
of all relevant cases by Thursday morning."  
  
"Yes sir," he playfully saluted her and went on to reading the next document.  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
"All right folks here's the deal," Walker started to explain as officers continued to groggily   
venture in. It was two in the morning and he'd just assembled a last minute task force to move in on the   
break and enter ring they'd been tracking. "We just got an alert from the Mickealson residence at 3908   
Arbor Road. The family is out of town and their alarm system was first tripped and then disconected from   
the security company's mainframe but the company did get some video. It looks like our guys, which   
means they will be there for another hour before leaving and we have to go get them."  
  
All the gathered officers exchanged knowing glances, each thinking the same thing. This case had   
been a break for them. It was simple and easy, a far cry from usual cases the Rangers saw, and had only   
been given to them because of the shear number of break and enters they were dealing with. All middle   
class homes, all the families away for the holidays, and all the security systems dismantled for a period of   
exactly 2 hours and fifteen minutes. The only reason they hadn't caught them yet was because the security   
systems had thus far been dismantled before they were tripped and all they ever saw after they were reset   
was the light from the tail lights fading as they fled. It was inevitable that they would eventually mess up   
and this was the twenty-third house in less than two weeks; with a frequency like that they had to be getting   
awfully tired, and sloppy. It was almost too bad that the case was so close to over. They had just enjoyed   
an entire week without any high-speed chases, bank robberies and bullets flying in their direction, and all   
because of a case in which no person had ever been injured, just a few yuppies losing their televisions.  
  
They arrived at the Mickealson home in less than twenty minutes and quickly apprehended five   
would-be thieves. Four had been inside the home, one in a delivery van parked next door. They were   
back at Ranger Headquarters less than an hour later.  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
"Jared King," Trivette told Sydney and Gage as they watched the scruffy looking, dark-haired man   
from behind a two-way mirror. "Looks like he is the mastermind behind this operation, although I don't   
see much mastery there. He's forty-three, and has got a rap sheet longer than Beltline. He's been arrested   
on three other occasions for break and enters, but one they couldn't prove and he did two years for the   
others; the stolen property was only a worth a total of four hundred and eighty-five dollars. He was   
suspected of being responsible for a bunch of others back then but they had no proof it was him."  
  
"I see," Sydney commented, looking over his criminal record for herself. She couldn't believe just   
how many accounts of harassment were filed against him, especially while in prison. "So, what's he   
saying?"  
  
"So far nothing, just asking for a public defender, which reminds me Jayne Charles will be here   
any minute. Before she gets here and talks with him I want you two to go in and try to talk to him, I think   
he knows he's in deep, maybe he'll crack."  
  
"We're on it," Gage assured him, walking towards the door that lead into the small interrogation   
room. He held the door open as Sydney walked through it, closing it tightly behind them.   
  
"Who the hell are you guys?" King demanded immediately.  
  
"We're the only hope you have of not getting more than ten years in prison for this," Sydney   
replied, sitting down exactly opposite him.  
  
"Like hell you are," he yelled back.  
  
"Well, let's see," Sydney started. Then after looking up at Gage for a moment she continued, "If   
your lawyer gets here first, before you say anything, everything you say will be on the record. If you start   
talking now we can make that record a lot smaller, and that helps you in court."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"We want to know where you stored everything, and if you sold any of the merchandise yet, then   
we want the names of your buyers. Oh and if you are working for anyone, we need to know who they are   
too," Gage told him.  
  
"I don't work for nobody. I do my own business, and I hire my own boys ok?" King harshly   
replied, glaring at Gage. "And you'll never find the stuff I got, it's all gone already and I got no names."  
  
"Gee, that's too bad, I guess you'll just have to answer those questions later then, like when the   
prosecution starts asking them, and all those lovely jurors are watching. Oh, and you know this is a very   
cut and dry case; we arrested you and your men in their home, and because of the way you handled the   
alarm system we can prove pattern and you'll be found guilty on all twenty-three counts."  
  
"How are my men?" he suddenly turned the tables on them. "Jonesy giving you guys hard time?   
McKitrip's a real nut ain't he? He was a rookie you know, so nervous, too bad, good guy."  
  
"McKitrip? Who's he?" Sydney turned around and mouthed towards Gage. They had an Edward   
Jones on their list, but no one with the name McKitrip.  
  
"You answer our questions first," Gage told King, after returning Syd's questioning gaze.   
  
"Ah screw em all then, they aren't worth screwing with you guys," he spat, leaning far back in his   
seat, "Now get the hell out of here until my lawyer comes."  
  
With that they left, albeit with more questions than answers.  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
"Here," Shannon Marvell, a criminal psychologist and part-time employee of Quality Star Security   
Ltd. exclaimed pointing towards a dark figure on the videotape of the first five minutes of the break and   
enter. "This guy here, watch him, he has very distinctive behavioral patterns. See, he keeps twitching his   
hand and turning around. It's as if he's acting like a lookout, but I can't say against what. He's standing in   
the middle of the entryway, facing into the house. If he really was a lookout he'd be by the window or the   
door or in a car nearby. Also his movements are very jerky, I'm willing to bet this is more than just nerves.   
In an everyday situation I'd say he would exhibit these same patterns, although possibly in a slightly more   
subtle way. They would still be pronounced enough for you to notice them upon interaction with him."  
  
"None of the guys we arrested act anything like this, at least not that I've seen," Walker told her.  
  
"Then you didn't arrest him."  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
Edward Jones was not the kind of guy that King thought he was and getting him to crack was   
much easier. Something about having a wife, and three and a half kids, and being offered a decent deal   
(that included witness protection for them) seemed to help him make the right decision.   
McKitrip as it would turn out was actually McKintrick, Sam Akins McKintrick to be exact and   
known as a bit of a lit stick of dynamite. It really had been his first "mission" as they called it, and it hadn't   
been going well for him. McKintrick was the one who tripped the alarm at the very beginning, and had   
been incredibly nervous during the entire mission. He did exhibit the behavioral patterns Ms. Marvell had   
pointed out before, although Jones honestly did not know why. Apparently his twitching and minor   
paranoia had upset all of the members of the team, and he spent the majority of the time just standing   
around because no one else, not even King, trusted him to do anything after seeing just how bad his   
behavior and attitude became when they arrived at the Mickaelson's home.  
  
McKintrick did not have a permanent residence, or a prior criminal record of any kind, which was   
strange in and of itself. He'd never had a parking ticket, a driver's license, or even a birth certificate made   
out in his name, even though Jones had assured them that he had been born and raised in the Dallas area.   
The only proof they had that this man even existed was that videotape and the testimony of the others.   
Quickly running out of leads as to who this man really was and what his whereabouts were it was   
decided that they would return to King's home after all getting some much needed rest. They had   
thoroughly scoured the place earlier and hadn't found anything, but then again they hadn't known what   
they were looking for.  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
It was two in the afternoon when they arrived at King's home, just over twelve hours after the   
original arrests. It was short and weathered, obviously showing it's substantial age, and poor craftmanship.   
They had noted before that the building needed to be inspected and possibly torn down due to the safety   
hazard it posed. It turned out that this had been the house King grew up in, having been originally built by   
his father, and most of the contents of the house had belonged to his parents as well, everything from the   
furniture to the boxes of Christmas decorations King's ex-girlfriend had insisted on putting up.   
The first thing they noticed upon their arrival was the presence of a tan sedan parked out front, a   
vehicle that hadn't been there before. The plates on the car were from Nebraska and over eleven years old,   
the paint peeling off, and a large corner rusted away. It would seem they weren't the only ones here after   
all.  
  
Gage and Sydney took the back, Walker and Trivette the front. The plan was simple, let Gage and   
Sydney go in, and once they knew the coast was clear have Walker and Trivette go in the front. This man   
"McKintrick" was a rookie, he might be prepared for them coming in the front, but considering the state he   
seemed to be on the tape would probably have overlooked the back.   
  
As Sydney and Gage made their way to the back of the house Gage smiled and asked, "We still on   
for tonight?"  
  
"After all this I wouldn't miss it for the world," Sydney replied, grinning in return.  
The walked in the back door and cautiously made their way through the main hallway towards the   
front portion of the house. The house was full of ornate Christmas ornaments, everything from tinsel to   
mistletoe to popcorn garlands. Pushed up against the side of the stairwell was a table covered in the   
decorations, these ones more ornate than the others. There were Santa figurines and a nativity set and tall,   
slender silver pyramid that stood in a wreath made of pine and satin ribbon with the words "Peace On   
Earth" carved onto a cedar slice, nested on the wreath at the bottom.  
  
Gage turned towards the front door to usher Walker and Trivette in when he saw that it was   
rigged. "McKintrick" had taken the axe from beside the fireplace and placed it so that when the door was   
opened it would fall into the person. "Go around back!" he mouthed, gesturing with his arms. They   
quickly got the idea and were soon out of sight.  
  
"I'm going up, cover me," Sydney told him, moving towards the staircase.  
  
"Ok," he answered staying at the bottom as she ascended it. "Sydney I'm going to go get   
Walker," he abruptly stated after hearing the back door open and close.  
  
"No Gage stay here," she ordered back as he began to leave. "Gage stay here, they've got each   
other, they'll be fine."  
  
"I'm just gonna show them how to get here," he replied as his figure disappeared behind the door.  
  
"Gage!"  
  
When he caught up to Walker and Trivette, they looked at him skeptically. "Where's Sydney?"   
Walker asked.  
  
"She's back front come on, let's go," he answered, quickly turning around and leading them back   
to the main entryway.  
  
"Gage!" Sydney called out as soon as she saw him.  
  
"Shut up!" "McKintrick" announced from behind her, pushing the gun against the base of her   
skull.  
  
'Cover me… stay here…Gage!' the words rang through Gage's mind. If he'd just listened and   
done his job this wouldn't have happened.  
  
"Let her go McKintrick," Walker calmly told him.  
  
"Now why the hell would I want to do that?" the thin, blond haired man replied. He looked wired,   
and ready to explode.  
  
"It'll do you no good to hurt her."  
  
"Oh of course you'd say that!" he yelled in reply, causing Sydney to jump slightly.  
  
"All right, how about this; what is you real name?" he continued to speak calmly, being sure to   
maintain his composure despite the fact his friend was in trouble.  
  
"What do you care?"  
  
"Please tell me."  
  
"Jack," he finally admitted after a long pause, "Jack Long."  
  
"All right Jack, tell me what you want."  
  
"I want you all to get the hell out of here!"  
  
"We can't do that Jack, you have one of our people," Walker stated his voice now more firm but   
still sympathetic.  
  
"Come on, just let me go," he tightened his grip on Sydney once more, "You don't want me   
anyway."  
  
"Yes, we do, we can help you out."  
  
"Come on that's what they all say, every bloody time they screwed with me you know?" he was   
starting to act panicked, and Walker was afraid of what he might do next.  
  
"Tell me who Jack, who hurt you?"  
  
"The doctors, the shrinks, the nurses, everybody," he listed off slowly, his manner becoming   
strikingly more sullen. "They say I am something called 'bipolar' and that I don't know what I'm doing."  
  
Walker paused, realizing that this was going to be much harder than he's originally thought. "Is   
that why you were so nervous when you went into that man's house? Were you afraid that if you were   
caught you'd have to go back to the hospital?"  
  
Long nodded; tears were beginning to fall from his eyes and onto Sydney's shoulder.  
  
"Let her go Jack, we won't let them do that to you," Walker assured him.  
  
"I don't believe you," he was slowly becoming angry again, his hand twitching every time he   
spoke.  
  
"Believe, please." Walker paused again, waiting for Long to respond. "Let her go."  
  
"You bloody want me to let her go, do you?" he screamed then, his voice ringing out like a   
shotgun. "You watch. I'll let her go!" Sydney's body suddenly hit the railing, thrown against it with all the   
force in his body. Then, he turned the gun to them, "You bloody well stay back, these bullets can go   
through anything! I got them special for your bullet proof vests!" he teased erratically.  
  
"No Jack, put it down," Walker pleaded.  
  
"Like hell," Jack replied before placing the barrel against his own head. "Never again," he told   
them, and pulled the trigger.  
  
Gage had seen the railing begin to fail when Jack threw Sydney against it, the withered wooden   
spindles pulling away from t he supports at the bottom and the rail itself beginning to crack. When he then   
saw Jack's body tumble on top of hers, propelled by the force of the armor piercing bullet drilling into his   
temple, he instinctively knew that it would completely collapse.  
  
He was helpless. She was too far away and falling too fast, and the Christmas decorations and   
boxes scattered on the floor created a miniature maze he could never navigate in time to save her from her   
impact with the floor. He could only watch in what was a cross between horror, heartbreak, and surreal   
disbelief as her foot caught the stairs causing her to fall face-forward onto the table of decorations they had   
passed by on the way in. He watched as she reached out her arm to cushion her fall only to have it snap   
loudly beneath her, and end up hanging over the edge of the wooden table.   
Jack's body fell limply on the ground in front of her.   
  
Gage quickly proceeded to make his way over to her. As he came closer and closer he could see   
the reality of the scene. Her right arm was badly broken, as was her right leg, and the glass ornaments on   
the table had shattered beneath her, causing the tiny shards to become embedded in her skin. The glass   
couldn't attribute for the pool of blood growing beside her though. Finally, Gage saw what did. He could   
see the silver tip of the pyramidal "Peace On Earth" decoration protruding from her lower back. She had   
landed on the pointed object and it had penetrated her entire abdomen.   
  
"Call an ambulance," he yelled, running on autopilot, going through ingrained procedure. He felt   
removed from the situation, even though he knew this nightmare was reality, and was his fault.  
  
The paramedics arrived quickly, and took her away on a stretcher, her life signs fading quickly.   
Jack Long was declared dead immediately.  
  
"Come on Gage, I'll drive you to the hospital," Walker told him, placing a comforting hand on his   
shoulder.  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
It was a long drive to the hospital, a silent drive too. When they arrived they slowly made their   
way through the anarchy of the Emergency room, weaving through bleeding patients, and coughing   
children, and the screaming sounds over the intercom calling for help here and there. Finally they went up   
to the attending secretary. Walker spoke first, "We're here about Ranger Sydney Cooke. She was taken   
here by ambulance and should have arrived within the last fifteen minutes."  
  
"Ranger Cooke? A Texas Ranger?" the small lady asked.  
  
"Yeah, that's the one."  
  
"I'll look into her. If you'd just have a seat over there I'll tell you guys what I can find out."  
  
Cautiously they stepped back into the chaos, and sat down as directed. Gage watched the   
receptionist, actively typing at her computer and making a phone call all at once. Within a few minutes a   
doctor joined her at her desk, and she quickly pointed her over to where he and Walker were sitting. News   
had arrived.  
  
"Are you here for Ranger Cooke?" Dr. Rachel Neese asked them.  
  
"Yes, how is she?" Gage jumped to his feet.  
  
"Would you guys like to follow me somewhere quieter?"  
  
They nodded and followed.  
  
Once inside a quieter hallway Dr. Neese turned to them with sympathetic eyes, "Ranger Cooke   
suffered from two broken bones, one in her right forearm and one in her right femur, as well as a hairline   
fracture in that same femur. Her right ankle was also badly sprained and she suffered from a severe head   
trauma that caused swelling in her brain. The most severe injury was however a puncture wound through   
the left oblique abdominal muscle which went straight through her back. "  
  
"But will she be ok, I mean, will she recover from most of it at least?" Gage pleaded.  
  
"No, she will not recover from the injuries." She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing,   
"Ranger Cooke was declared dead on arrival."  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
"It was my fault," Gage told Captain Briscoe during the debriefing. "Sydney Cooke was caught   
by Jack Long because I failed to watch her back like I was supposed to."  
  
"Gage, it was a tragedy, but I'm sure you're not completely at fault," the elder man felt his own   
heart break watching the young man's mourn the lost of his partner. He looked like he was in shock. He   
was so calm, and even; Briscoe knew that something had to be terribly wrong for him to be acting this   
composed.  
  
"No, it was my fault. I turned to warn Walker about the traps and to tell him to go around back. I   
then turned back to Sydney, but then when I heard them come in the back door, and decided to show them   
how to get to where we were, not that it was too hard, just follow the main corridor. Sydney yelled for me   
to come back to her, to watch her, but I didn't. When Walker, Trivette, and I got back to the stairs Long   
already had Sydney. He had come up behind her and I hadn't been there to watch her back," he restated the   
situation, looking directly at Briscoe.  
  
"Look Gage, I'm gonna have someone drive you home, you're not in any condition to drive   
yourself. We'll talk about this again, tomorrow."  
  
Gage didn't reply, he just looked down, his self-blame visible on his face and tearing him up   
inside.  
  
~/~/~/~  
  
Julie Gage had heard about Sydney's death on the 6 o'clock news, and knew immediately that her   
brother would be needing her. As she walked up the stairs to his apartment she held tightly to the railing,   
needing the support herself. Sydney had been her friend, and Julie knew that she had meant a lot to her   
brother. She needed to be composed herself if she was going to help him deal with his own grief. Why   
was it that everyone in their lives always died on them? Their parents had died in the car accident and now   
her brother's partner and best friend had died during the arrest.   
  
She knocked softly on the door, calling out to him, "Frankie?" There was no answer, she tried   
again, a little louder on both counts, "Frankie? Are you in there? It's me, Jules."  
  
There was still no answer and she knew that something was very wrong. He had to be here, his   
car was parked outside in it's usual spot, and she could here the radio playing behind the door. Pulling out   
her emergency key she carefully unlocked the door and peered inside. Everything looked to be in place,   
and her brother had fallen asleep at the kitchen table; she knew that he had probably had too much drink   
and would be needing her to help him with the hangover in the morning. Quietly shutting the door behind   
her she walked closer, mindful not to wake him.   
  
As she came closer and closer she got a better look at the scene. There were some photographs   
scattered on the table; some of her and Gage, but mostly of him and Sydney, and there was something   
tucked in his hand. Then she saw the blood, it was pooling beside his head and dripping onto the tan rug,   
creating a dark puddle around him. Hanging in this other hand was his service weapon, with a silencer   
placed on the barrel.   
  
Julie had to step away, lean on the couch to maintain her balance. Her head felt light as she   
reached for her cell phone, her fingers finding the right buttons despite her trembling. "Yes hello, I need an   
ambulance at apartment 46, 10976 West Livery Road. I am Julie Gage. It's my brother, Ranger Francis   
Gage, he's, he's, he's been shot. His head, please hurry."  
  
She was in tears on the couch when they arrived; Francis Gage was already dead.  
  
"Ms. Gage?" one kind paramedic approached her calmly. She looked up and nodded in reply.   
The tall dark-haired man held out a small, navy blue velvet jewelry box, "This was found in your brother's   
hand. I was wondering if it meant something to you?"  
  
Taking the box from him she opened it up. Inside were two things, their mother's engagement   
ring, and a tiny slip of paper. Opening the piece of paper she saw what it was, a receipt from Jackson   
Engraving dated three days ago, for work done on the beautiful diamond solitaire ring. On the inside of the   
white gold band was written the simple message, "Marry Me Sydney".  



End file.
